


Guardian Demon

by Moon_Raccoon_exe



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22149232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moon_Raccoon_exe/pseuds/Moon_Raccoon_exe
Summary: Brigadier General Loqi Tummelt grew up hearing stories about the Lucian Marshal, the 'Immortal'. To him, Cor was never a real man: he was a legend, unbreakable, untouchable, indestructible.A legend like Cor Leonis could not be defeated, everybody knew that.Loqi was so sure about it that he can't understand when, one day, the Immortal is captured by his war companion, Caligo Ulldor.Loqi sees how the great legend of The Immortal Cor Leonis seems to be about to end in a random, unimportant, dirty dungeon room, like a mortal, like aloser,and decides that's not the ending he wants for the legend he's been obsessed with all his life.
Relationships: Cor Leonis/Loqi Tummelt
Comments: 28
Kudos: 40





	Guardian Demon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tikali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tikali/gifts).



> I felt like INJURING COR so this popped up in my head.
> 
> Tried to keep it short but who am I kidding, I'm the 10k+ nerd
> 
> Gifting to tikali because goddammit have i always wanted to give them sO MUCH, love them, and goddammit have they been supporting me like crazy since DAY FREAKING ONE and we're still going years later and lkajsdlkfgjklhafhjlkja 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> -

One day, Leonis was captured. 

Just like that. As if it was just anything, like it wasn’t the big deal, Cor Leonis the Immortal was captured and taken prisoner, and no one seemed to be freaking out about it. At least not as much as Brigadier General Loqi Tummelt was. 

The one that brought him into the fortress was Caligo, Loqi’s equal in ranks but senior and mentor in experience. Acquainted with him like a nephew to an uncle, it wasn’t rare to find Loqi seeking guide in him if he could spend some of his time on duty with Caligo. And like the Astrals aligned the stars for him, during one of the times Loqi was spending duty time at the same fortress than Caligo, the latter took responsibility of capturing _the_ Immortal. Cor Leonis, the Lucian Marshal, and Loqi’s utter, sometimes exaggerated obsession since before joining the military academia, since he had memory, and since he first heard of the man. 

Loqi’s obsession on the Immortal wasn’t a secret. Nearly everyone that knew Loqi knew of this obsession, this nearly maniac fixation on the Lucian. According to Loqi (after just one quick first fight with him), Leonis was his number one enemy, eternal rival, biggest and only one adversary, his antagonist, his lifelong ice-born nemesis fated to die at his hands…so he should have been ecstatic of joy when Caligo brought Leonis, the man himself, alive and real and complete, to the fortress, but Loqi was just freaking out.

Loqi had been on watch duty across the fortress when Caligo and his MT squad arrived back from a mission. Like usual, Loqi went to receive him.  
When the doors opened, Caligo was first to come in, walking with an air of superiority, near cat-walking, and smiling proudly. He was obviously injured and quickly, badly patched up as if to hide it, but he had a smug smile upon his face. Loqi could only give him a look when Caligo spoke and dropped it just like that.  
“Got the Immortal.”

Without a word, confused, Loqi looked at the MTs marching behind Caligo.  
And there he was, the Immortal, Leonis himself, being dragged into the base by a pair of MTs.

How was Loqi supposed to not freak out?

Unable to hide it, Loqi opened the eyes big and immediately lost it, but the shock managed to keep him silent and a little breathless instead of the mess of screaming he felt like inside.  
“Ho- but- what!?” was all that he managed to let out as the MTs kept going, not looking his way. Loqi kept staring as if expecting it to be a lookalike, but when the MTs walked past him, Loqi finally got a look of the man himself to the face, and he could do but freak out even more. 

There he was, real, authentic, _the_ Cor Leonis. He was being held from the arms by the MTs, half body dragging on the floor. He was unconscious, and badly injured; bruised, bleeding, clothes shred, he looked like he had had the fight of his life.  
Like having _the_ Cor Leonis real and authentic and alive only meters away wasn’t material enough to freak out, watching him unconscious and _hurt_ was the end of Loqi’s sanity for the rest of the day.

“How!?” he asked Caligo at least seventy three times for the rest of that day. Loqi kept going in circles, pulling at his hair, stopping moving and breathing, or yelling, and no matter how many times all of his monosyllabic questions were answered, he kept asking because it just couldn’t be, it couldn’t be!  
“He was strong, but let his guard down” Caligo bragged all across the day, apparently pleased to answer every time Loqi asked him again and again. “A worthy opponent, but weaker in the end.”

And Loqi’s shock just grew until leaving him sleepless that night because _how could it be?_

After watching the MTs drag him inside, Loqi followed, eyes wide and breath lost. Caligo ordered to take him to a dungeon, and the MTs complied. Loqi watched Caligo open the door, and the MTs go inside, dragging Cor along. They half-dropped half-tossed him against a wall, which seemed to wake him up. Hearing Cor grunt in pain only confirmed he was _the_ real thing, and so Loqi’s shock grew again. He stood paralyzed at the door and watched as Cor moved only a little, head still down, half-sat half-thrown against the wall. 

Caligo approached him. He closed a shackle around one of Cor’s wrists, and watching the Marshal not fight back was so surreal, Loqi stopped breathing again. Caligo closed another one at his other wrist, and then he stayed down on his ankles in front of him, just inches, _inches_ from _the_ Cor Leonis.  
Then, with a hand, Caligo violently pressed a wound at Cor’s side. It immediately made the Marshal pull the head up, loudly growling in pain. Breathing with effort, Cor squirmed a little in his spot until Caligo let go, the Immortal sliding a little down so he was more thrown than sat at this point. _The_ Immortal, just…sprawled there, breathing in pain. Pathetic and miserable and dying.

“I’ll ask how my superiors prefer you, dead or alive, and then we’ll talk” Caligo said to him in a murmur, grabbing Cor’s face. Loqi could only see him from behind, but he could almost hear Caligo’s huge smug smile. His senior patted Cor’s cheek like he was a child. “You’ll be my nicest raise.”

Without having even been able to open the eyes, Cor offered no fight when Caligo roughly let go of his face, still breathing raggedly. Loqi watched him attentively, even after Caligo had stood up and stopped at his side.  
“Sorry, boy” Caligo said with that smirk still present, and even then Loqi just kept the eyes on the slightly squirming Lucian at the wall. “Got him before you.”  
And he walked past him. Loqi still stayed frozen at the door, big eyes on the Immortal. He only stepped back as the MTs moved to start closing the door, ignoring him. 

Loqi was unable to focus on anything all over the day. He thankfully had no duties that day, but he still couldn’t focus in anything. After dinner, at the main office, Caligo served them both a drink.  
“A toast” Caligo offered, raising his glass high. “For the defeat of the Marshal.”  
“…but how?” Loqi asked lowly, eyes lost in his own glass.  
“Boy” Caligo laughed. “I’ve told you the story about a hundred times by now.”  
“I know, it’s just…” Loqi tried but found no words. He shook the head, and looked up at his senior, shrugging and shaking the head like it was logic, common sense and obvious, and not understanding why Caligo wasn’t getting it. “It’s just…it’s _Leonis.”_  
“I know it’s a bit disappointing” Caligo said after having drunk his drink in one sip, serving his glass again. “You’ve been chasing him for a while. But it’s just natural, boy, he’s from my generation, so he had more possibilities of falling under someone our age. You, however, get the big fishes, like the prince, people your age.”

Well…yes, and no, but that was beyond the point. It wasn’t who defeated Cor, it wasn’t age, it wasn’t even about the stupid war, this was…it was...it was _Cor,_ it was the idea of him being _prisoner,_ it just…couldn’t be. Loqi stayed absent-minded and still in shock even hours later. Again, Caligo didn’t seem to catch what was so obvious to him, and he just laughed.  
“Look, kind as I am, I’ll make up for taking the victory from you” he offered. Loqi took himself out of the shock to look at him. “If the High Commander tells us it’s fine to kill him, I’ll let you pull the trigger. Say, not necessarily the trigger, I’ll even let you choose how to do it. So he still dies at your hands. How ‘bout that?”

Loqi blinked, eyes still wide and absent, his shock only growing worse because Caligo was really, really not getting it and it was so obvious. Yet, understanding Caligo was taking this so lightheartedly, Loqi nodded and forced a smile, and raised his glass.  
“That’s my boy” Caligo said between lovingly and smugly, a bit too aware of being the ‘superior’ one despite sharing the same rank. He had their glasses clink, and he proceeded to slurp down the whole thing at once. Loqi put the glass to his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink, still shocked and absent.

Needless to say, Loqi was almost unable to sleep that night. In the middle of it, having just rolled in bed, wide awake and eyes still big, he got fully dressed again and ordered to open the dungeon for him. He couldn’t even step inside once the door was open, the sight of Cor, still there, _there,_ alive and real and asleep and still sprawled in the same spot, froze him. Loqi stared for minutes and minutes until, almost half an hour later, he ordered to have the door close, and he left for his room.  
He kept rolling in bed again, and though he did fall asleep, it was almost out of protocol and without noticing, as he never felt sleepy himself. When he woke up, his mind was instantly fully aware and back on thinking about Cor.

The first thing he did was, of course, go and order to have the door opened, desperate to confirm if it had all been real or product of his five-minute sleep. Once more, he stayed paralyzed at the doorframe at the sight of the Immortal, still there, alive and real and asleep, in the same pose. For a moment, Loqi thought a bit too hopefully, that it was just a mannequin and that’s why he didn’t move all night, but, staring as intensely as he was, he was able to catch sight of his uneasy breath and the twitch of a hand. Almost immediately, as if it had been a beast waking up, Loqi stepped back and ordered to have the door closed.

Caligo didn’t get a response that day. The Lucians had to know that their Marshal had been captured, so they would be alert to communications ready to interfere and decipher in which base he being held prisoner, so the Nifs took the boring, ancient way of handwritten letters. Even though they used their aircrafts to disguise and deliver their mail service, it would still be a day or two before the High Commander’s response came back.  
So that would be Cor Leonis in the base for a day or two. 

That first day went with Caligo attending his duties normally, so horribly _normally_ like he didn’t have _the_ Immortal in the dungeon room. Loqi tried attending his own duties, too, but all the time he got distracted staring at Caligo as if waiting for him to freak out, at nowhere and lost in thoughts, or at the dungeon room’s door. 

It was later when Caligo did anything related to Cor. Loqi stood close while Caligo reviewed some notes.  
“What’s that?” Loqi couldn’t contain the curiosity.  
“Contemplating whether or not I need to increase security on Leonis” Caligo replied, eyes still on the paper, while he distractedly swung side-to-side on his chair. “He’s injured and his magic neutralized, but, you know…it’s _the_ Immortal. I don’t want to take the risk of a miracle escape.”

Loqi blinked. Normally, he wouldn’t have even asked anything, or would have offered to do something to make sure Leonis stayed trapped, but he still couldn’t help his still shocked head and his silence.  
“Better play it safe” Caligo said after a while, put the note down, and headed out of his office. Moved by curiosity, Loqi went to reach for Caligo’s notes.

It was handwritten by him, and it seemed to be a review of Cor’s injuries.  
Beaten up was obvious. A hit to the head and almost certain concussion, very possibly some broken ribs, a freaking stab to the side, and a broken foot.  
Loqi had told himself that he reviewed the notes to think if they should take stricter methods, but the first thing that petrified him in place was just the idea of Cor, _the_ Cor Leonis being beaten up, hit, broken, and stabbed. Not one, but many injuries, like it was normal, like it was _possible_ to get close to him, lay a hand on him, and even worse, get to _injure_ him.  
Thinking about how impossible it was, his brain ringed a bell when he remembered about Caligo saying to play it safe and leaving. Running after him, Loqi left the office.

Caligo couldn’t be serious. Leonis had a broken foot, even if he broke out from the shackles and from the room, no one could walk on a broken foot, and dragging himself on the floor wouldn’t get him very far- could Leonis, _the_ Cor Leonis break a foot? He had _bones_ like a normal person, like a mortal? He wasn’t made of steel? He _could_ be _broken?_

Loqi got to the dungeon room just as Caligo was going in. Loqi stood at the doorframe and watched as his senior approached Leonis.  
Cor, awake, only managed to pull the head up and look at Caligo before the Nif raised a foot and slammed his armor shoe against his face.  
Loqi flinched and looked slightly away at the same time. From the corner of his sight he could see Caligo move, and he could hear Cor groan and roar in pain, but he didn’t dare turn and look as the other brigadier general went on for a couple minutes beating the already beaten Marshal.  
And it wasn’t that it was too violent for him. Loqi had been raised during the war, trained into tolerating and _liking_ violence. He had seen worse things, he _did_ worse things.  
…but it…for the billionth time…it was _Cor Leonis,_ the Immortal himself. It just _couldn’t_ be possible… 

When it seemed to be calming down, Loqi finally dared and get a look again.  
Cor was now lying on the floor, a hand barely pressing to his stab wound on his side. Caligo blocked the sight of his face. He delivered a last kick to Cor on the chest; the Marshal huffed and groaned, though rather quietly, and didn’t fight back. Loqi heard Caligo spit, but didn’t see where it landed. He tried to look unfazed and not so shocked when his senior turned around and headed for the exit. While Caligo approached the door, Loqi got a subtle glance of Cor.  
His eyes were closed, but he seemed to be awake. He was even more bloodied than before, and more bruised.  
Before he could keep staring, Caligo put a hand to his shoulder.  
“Let’s go, son.”

So Loqi stared a last second, turned around, and left with the other general.

-

That night, Loqi visited Cor.  
“Can I beat him up, too?” he asked Caligo after dinner, looking and sounding firm and serious like it was a vital task. Caligo couldn’t help a laugh.  
“Got jealous watching me?”  
“Yes” Loqi stated just as seriously as before. Caligo laughed again and patted his back.  
“Sure, boy. I know how excited you’ve been all your life for this, but don’t get overly excited; you might kill him and we don’t know yet if that’s fine.”

Loqi didn’t answer. He frowned a little, not in anger but in his look of determination so known and frequent, which made Caligo chuckle and pat his back again.  
Caligo didn’t follow. He said something about not wanting to pressure Loqi and giving him privacy to get as wild as he wanted for as long as he pleased.  
So Loqi got full privacy when, early that night, he visited the Immortal to beat him up. 

Still in full armor, Loqi stood some moments at the door after opening it. It was still not a dream, as the Marshal was still inside the room. He had moved to, once more, be half-sat half-thrown against a wall, shackles at his wrists, and a foot slightly off place. He had an arm resting across his belly, and he softly pressed what Loqi could only guess was his stab wound. He didn’t bother look at the door when it opened, but he seemed to be awake. 

Loqi went in and closed the door, softly, as if fearing to startle the Immortal, like he was a beast that seemed passive and harmless yet still with the fame to fear and be wary of. The General approached him slowly, until standing inches from him, and he stopped. For a while he did nothing but stand still, looking down on him.

Until, finally, Leonis looked up at him. At first he seemed as if completely blind to the Nif, keeping the head hanging low. Apparently, after noticing that Loqi was only standing there doing nothing, Cor pulled the head up, and they made eye contact.  
Both reacted at the same time. One of Loqi’s eyebrows twitched and he felt his entrails become a disaster inside, heart instantly racing, reacting as if though being spotted by a lethal beast.  
Cor’s eyebrow twitched too, but he seemed calm. More than surprised or scared, he looked…confused. He stared at Loqi as if asking him if he hadn’t come into the wrong room, or gotten into the wrong armor. 

Cor scanned him a little, but Loqi didn’t take the eyes off the Marshal’s.  
His eyes were…light. They were light and bright, almost out of place in the dark room. Like his irises were made out of real ice with a slight tint of blue only.  
His eyes shone with…something. A strong sentiment. Looking at his eyes felt as if though Leonis was sad, or melancholic, but not in that moment. It felt like it was the permanent look in his eyes.  
He also looked exhausted. Very terribly exhausted, in many ways. 

…Cor Leonis…could _feel_ things…? He could tire out, too…?

Staring at him with intense shock and confusion, Loqi couldn’t help but stay paralyzed for longer. Cor held eye contact most of the time, apparently not altered, but confused and waiting.  
Loqi went down on his ankles to be at his current level, eyes still full and unmoving from Cor’s. Once more, now that he was looking at him from closer, Cor gave him a look of clear confusion again.

Loqi slapped him. Hard enough to make it echo in the room and have the Marshal turn roughly to a side and lowly groan.

None moved afterwards. Cor kept the head turned to a side and low again, eyes closed. He breathed steadily but shakily. Loqi, in front of him, watched him with even more confusion and shock than before, stared shamelessly.  
Leonis had the mouth bloodied, with a dry red path from his lips to his chin and even following down the neck. Nose bloodied too, and a split eyebrow, blood from somewhere on his temple too. He had both eyes dark, but one seemed to be exhaustion, the other an injury. The left eye was slightly swollen and purple. He had scratches and bruises at the neck, and a wound that seemed still open but not enough to bleed him to death. Loqi couldn’t see his state under his clothes, and the gods knew Leonis exaggerated at how covered he was when this was the gods damn Lucian desert. 

Loqi stared down at his hands, the only other unclothed place he could see. He had plenty liberty but not full with the shackles at his wrists, secured way too tightly. His hands even seemed subtly purple, and a little movement of the fingers made Loqi think that maybe the shackles stopped him from full hand movement. One of them was scratched, and the other, the one pressing weakly to his side, was bloodied. 

The whole sight only added to Loqi’s shock. He looked at the cheek he had slapped, subtly red, and exposed, like Cor didn’t care about getting hit again. Then, Loqi glanced at his own hand. 

…it _was_ possible…to _touch him?_

Cor seemed to contain the breath as soon as Loqi moved. He opened the eyes and released the breath when he saw that, instead of getting closer, Loqi had stood up. Cor looked up at him again.  
Loqi made eye contact with him, with the sad, exhausted, but fully awake ice eyes, bright against the darkness. 

He turned around and left the room without having done more.

-

It was around three in the morning. 

The Immortal was dead asleep, had been for a couple hours. Between exhausted and injured, his sleep was heavy. He didn’t hear the door open, though, in his defense, they opened it as subtly and silently as possible. The steps were as silent as well, but even when they stopped inches from him, Cor still didn’t wake up. 

Loqi went down on his ankles in front of him like the first time. This time, he covered Cor’s mouth with a hand. For a second there was nothing; then, the Immortal flinched and came awake, a tiny yelp of surprise coming out muffled against Loqi’s hand. The Immortal took a moment to come to his senses, staring down at the hand at his face first, then turning to look at the Nif, blinking the sleep off his eyes. It took yet another moment to focus his sight, and, when he could, it still took a moment before he did anything. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he made eye contact.

Before he could ask anything, Loqi brought a finger to his mouth to ask him for silence.  
Cor understood, and didn’t at the same time. He caught the drift right away, but he still opened the eyes a little more, surprised and a little shocked, understanding what was happening but not quite sure it was real. 

Loqi put his finger down, and then let go of Cor’s mouth, a little shakily, as if fearing that Leonis was going to yell as soon as he let go. Once sure he would be quiet, Loqi put his hand down.  
Both held eye contact for a bit, not saying anything.  
Loqi saw Cor’s eyes, still light and bright in contrast of the dark.  
Cor saw Loqi. Despite having blue-grey eyes, they seemed to fit in the dark just fine. 

The Nif was off armor. For a moment, despite it being useless and stupid, Cor couldn’t help but hyper-fixate on the fact that the general was off armor. It was strange, to see a Nif high command in…not armor. The armors were so stupidly big and intricate, seeing this young man without all of that ornamentation was…strange. He only wore a black long-sleeved shirt and pants the same color. With a little glance, Cor could see he was shoeless, too. For a moment, it didn’t make sense. Then he guessed it had to be as to not make noise or leave any prints in his way here. 

Cor looked back up at his face. The Nif was still staring at him, eyes pretty and wide going all over his face. Cor stared back and realized they had never said a word to each other so far, and yet, since the first time this guy came to the dungeon to slap him, they had stared at each other so much that it felt like they had been speaking for weeks. 

Loqi was first to look away. He looked down to a side, and Cor followed his gaze. He saw as Loqi opened a little box he had brought with himself and messed with some of the stuff inside.  
Cor saw him take the bottle, saw him take the cotton, and saw him prepare it. He saw Loqi as he stretched his hand towards him.

And yet, Cor couldn’t help but not understand when Loqi pressed the alcohol-covered cotton to a wound of his neck. 

Cor’s breath trembled as he breathed in largely, moving the head lightly to a side, as if to give easier access to the Nif. Loqi looked up at him with big, unsure eyes, like expecting him to smack his hand away. Cor, who had closed the eyes for a moment, opened them and stared at Loqi straight to the eyes, cold but soft. They held eye contact for a moment, until the Nif looked back down at his wound. Timidly, he started rubbing the wound, cleaning it. While he worked and started gaining trust, Cor kept staring at him, even if not being looked at back. He swallowed and tried to wet his dry lips, and stayed still as the Nif cleaned him. 

A moment later, Loqi put away the first ball of cotton, full of blood, only to wet a new one. When he looked up to search for another wound, he found Cor still staring. He stopped and stared back. The gaze lingered between both, and yet, none said a thing. Once more, Loqi was who looked away to focus in another of his wounds, this time at his chest, through a cut in his shirt. As he worked, Cor kept staring, not having once taken the eyes off him since he first opened them.  
“…do I know you?” Cor whispered in a weak, tired breath. Without expecting the reaction, he saw Loqi started smiling, until he chuckled bitterly.  
“I’m honored you remember me from the million times we’ve fought personally” the Nif replied not looking away from his task, and while he sounded honest, he didn’t sound angered. 

Cor blinked, not sure what to say. His mind swung between not having expected to have known this guy from before, and trying to remember his name, with no luck.  
“…I’m sorry” Cor whispered. Loqi clicked his tongue and didn’t reply, hands still working on cleaning the wounds. Cor continued staring at him, as if his eyes were unable to look elsewhere. His eyes kept going around Loqi’s face and every inch of it he could see. “…you’re…brigadier general, too?” by answer, Loqi nodded. “…aren’t you…too young?”

By answer, Loqi looked up at him for a moment, gave him a smug smile, lifted an eyebrow, and half-nodded, not as if saying yes, but as if proud of the fact. Or ironic. Reading this guy was…difficult. Cor tried licking his lips again, and kept staring.  
“…are you…healing me, just so I don’t die out of an infection, so that you and your…friend can torture me for longer?” he blurted out, still whispering. For a moment, Loqi stopped and looked up at him. At first, he looked surprised. Then, he frowned a little, between annoyed and angered, and retook his work. Ignored, Cor waited a moment before going on. “Because if that’s the case, I’d rather-”  
“I’m healing you” Loqi whispered-shouted, interrupting him, “so you don’t die in the desert out of a stupid infection.”

Cor remained silent. He stared, unable to do anything else, and while his brain processed the words, he could yet not fully grasp the reality of them. He hissed when Loqi started cleaning a sensitive open wound at the other side of his neck, but as soon as he recovered he continued staring, like the longer and more intensely he did so, the answer would be clearer.  
Was this guy…going to release him into the desert, then?  
He was going to…free him? 

“…why?” Cor whispered, voice weaker than before. Loqi stopped working but didn’t glance his way. It was as if though the knowledge of it had made Cor put his guard down, and now he sounded as weak as he truly was. The Nif shook the head softly, sighed quietly, and retook his work.  
“’Thank you’ would be better, you ungrateful swine. Do you question everyone that tries to help you?” Loqi asked, murmuring. “That’s going to get someone to regret it and leave you to die.”  
“But not you” Cor half-stated half-asked. 

The Nif ignored him again. He kept working and putting bloodied cotton balls away and wetting new ones to rub his wounds. Loqi pressed the cotton to a wound at his arm that made Cor flinch and hiss, sitting up a little more in his spot out of the pain, before relaxing and dropping almost on dead weight again, allowing the Nif to go on. Despite not wanting to anger him, the shock and confusion were greater than his fear, and they pushed Cor to insist.  
“…why?” he asked again, softly and in a breath. The Nif paused his work for a moment. He frowned, and retook the healing of the wound.  
“…you’re the _Immortal”_ Loqi whispered with some anger, as if though it was obvious. “You’re not dying this way. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Cor continued staring at him with weak but attentive eyes that didn’t get off the Nif for a moment. Despite his frown, the Nif’s eyes shone with something entirely different. Cor could almost swear it was sadness. Perhaps disappointment. He couldn’t tell, even less if the guy wasn’t looking his way.  
“I don’t get it” Cor whispered while letting himself be attended.  
“So don’t I” Loqi let go of his wound and finally looked at him. His eyes were full of shock and confusion. “…how did _you_ lose?”

At first, Cor thought that it was a rhetorical question, so he stayed silent, but the Nif didn’t retake his work. He was on his knees, spine straight, and eyes big and questioning, shocked and desperate for an answer. Cor licked his lips again, and something inside him shrank. He looked down, almost as if embarrassed.  
“…he had…a hostage” he whispered. After a moment, he looked up at Loqi to see if the answer had displeased him, but only found him still staring with the same shock than before. “And a robot, of course.”

The mech, he could understand, but…a hostage? Caligo never mentioned that.  
“…who was it?” Loqi whispered. “Your prince?”  
“…I don’t know” Cor shrugged. He was going to leave it there, but the Nif insisted through the intense gaze. As much as Cor tried to tell him that it was genuine and he had no more information, the younger man only intensified his stare on him, and Cor felt forced to blurt out whatever information he had. “The…toddler could yet not speak…not like I had time to ask, though…”

…what?  
There was so much…information in there that Loqi didn’t know where to start. Despite knowing he should do this as fast as possible, he couldn’t help but sit there in total shock, paralyzed. Caligo never mentioned a hostage. Hostage was fine, but Caligo had made it sound like he had done it by merit alone. Plus, even though a hostage was fine…a toddler? That was playing fucking dirty and low, even for Caligo.  
A toddler. A random, nameless, unimportant toddler. Loqi could understand that Leonis let a Nif give him the beat up of his life and destroy him and capture him and torture him and lock him and kill him if it was for his prince, now _that_ was important people…but he willingly let all of this happen…for a random, nameless, unimportant toddler that he didn’t even know…?

“…but why?” Loqi whispered. Cor only stared at him as if not knowing the answer either, but because he didn’t have a question. Loqi sighed, and decided to keep working on the wounds. “…you were willing to let your legend die with you for a toddler you don’t know?”  
“My legend has lived its years” Cor replied in a breath, and closed the eyes. “But that toddler just started…”

Loqi let go of his wound slowly, and looked up at him. Feeling the stare, Cor opened the eyes and returned the gaze. He saw there was no trace of frown upon the Nif’s face, only mere confusion…and sadness. There was some clear confused sadness in there.  
Loqi stared attentively for a long while, surprised at the answer. And…a little touched. He looked for any tiny hint of regret in the Immortal’s eyes, but he found none. It poked in Loqi’s gut with guilt and remorse. He thought he would be angry at Cor for taking so many years and impossible achievements to be who he was just to let it all die at the hands of someone irrelevant. But all he felt was remorse and some sadness. 

Loqi stared away and contained a big sigh in the chest. Loqi wet a new cotton ball, while Cor stared at him, eyes locked on him. Loqi moved down and he looked at the hand Cor weakly pressed to his side. He reached for Cor’s hand, but he froze before he could touch it. He tried, but couldn’t bring himself to take it.  
“…may I?” he whispered, looking at Cor. The Marshal swallowed and hesitated. Then, he nodded. Loqi looked back at his hand, and saw it tremble. With hesitation, Cor put it away, exposing his wound.

Loqi analyzed it first, carefully removing some of Cor’s ripped shirt from it. It wasn’t a lethal stab; it hadn’t penetrated any organ or vessel, and it wasn’t so big Cor would bleed to death, but it was still a wound much larger than the rest, and it still cried a little. Loqi sighed and took the hem of Cor’s shirt, and started slowly, gently lifting it. He had to use the fingers to get some shred of clothing out and away of the wound, making the Marshal hiss and tense.

Loqi started cleaning the wound. As soon as he pressed the first ball of cotton, Cor hissed louder than before and squirmed in his spot. He tensed and stayed frozen, eyes closed and teeth clenching. He seemed to be fighting to neither make a sound nor move. Loqi gave him a bit of time to calm down before he pressed the wound again, once more having Cor squirm a little under his touch. Despite his pain, Loqi kept going until the wound was as clean as he could manage, taking his time until finishing. 

Once he was done, Cor tried calming down. Loqi gave him time while he searched in the box. The Marshal breathed slowly and shakily, trying to ease it, until his body, little by little, relaxed. He closed the eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, he stared at Loqi. Cor didn’t follow his movements, only staring at his face and nowhere else while the Nif did his stuff. Moments later, Cor looked down at his hands and saw a needle with plastic-like thread. Loqi went back to his stab wound, and looked up at him.  
“…this may hurt” the Nif whispered, and, if Cor was seeing correctly, he would say the look in the blond’s eyes was…a little apologetic. 

Cor nodded. He tried lifting a hand to bite down on it, but the shackles didn’t let his hands get as far. He merely looked away and closed the eyes, pressing his jaw. He couldn’t help the whine as soon as the needle went through his skin the first time.  
Loqi himself was who let go of his work to cover his mouth. Cor still squirmed a little in his spot but relaxed quickly.  
“…sorry…” he breathed out, weak and shakily. Loqi just gave him a look between severe and comprehensive, and he went back to the wound. At the new stitch, Cor tightly closed the eyes and only hissed, as subtle as he could, and tried to endure it, trying to remind himself he had had it worse.

Even though Leonis did great at staying as quiet as possible, Loqi still couldn’t help but notice all of it. The squirming, the tension, the way he breathed raggedly and with effort…every whine, hiss, very little whimper of pain…the way the muscles at his belly contracted and released. How hot and cold he was at the same time. The blood. The injury. Flesh and sweat and blood, everything so…organic. How real he was, how…human. How mortal. 

Once he was done, Loqi tied a little knot and used tiny scissors to cut the thread.  
“I don’t think I need to tell you but this should only be temporary” Loqi gave his indications while accommodating things in the box again. “As soon as you get somewhere safe, get proper attention. This is just inexpert first aid.”

Cor had relaxed once more, but his breath was still shaky. He swallowed and nodded, blinking a little heavily, but eyes staying locked on Loqi. As if he had just noticed, Loqi stared back and was sure now that Cor had stared at him almost all the time. He gazed back with curiosity, trying to see if he could decipher what Leonis was looking for in his face, but he just found the same…bright, lonely, and profoundly sad eyes. Staring, Loqi stopped his work again, not helping but get a little lost in them.  
The Marshal’s eyes were…everything he hadn’t expected. The huge legend, the man that was all fierceness, courage, and war…his eyes weren’t fire.  
They were gentle. They were kind. And they were so very…soft.

Loqi looked down and swallowed, putting the needle back in the box and accommodating his stuff. He gave a glance up to find Cor still staring at him, unashamed, completely attentive, and yet so kind. Loqi moved a little back and looked down at his foot.  
“You’re getting nowhere on that” he stated. He took Cor’s boot off and pulled the hem of his pants’ right leg up. Then, he took a little rolled towel from the box. He offered it to Cor. At first, Cor just looked at it, then at the Nif. Understanding the question, Loqi brought it closer to his mouth. “I…need you to bite on it. This may…hurt.”

Cor stared at him in silence for a moment before nodding. Obediently, if still a little slow in his every move, Cor moved forwards, and took the towel in his teeth. Loqi took his leg in a hand, then the foot in the other. Cor laid the head back on the wall and closed the eyes. Loqi gave him a moment to get mentally prepared. He examined the injury, tried looking at it as best as possible in the dark room. He looked up at Cor to see how he was doing, and, before he regretted it, Loqi looked down at the foot again, and in a swift, smooth movement he twisted the ankle until the bone was straight again.

As he twisted it, Cor immediately reacted. At first he just huffed and squirmed a little, but as Loqi twisted and until he finished, he groaned into the towel, biting it hard, hands going to the sides to try to get a hold of something, finding nothing, and just clawing at the wall or the floor as moans of pain echoed in the back of his throat. Loqi reached for a bandage, but when he looked at Cor again, the Marshal was relaxing, lowering the head, and his eyelids fluttering.  
“Leonis” Loqi called, quickly putting the bandage aside. Cor seemed to fall unconscious, the towel dropping from his mouth. Loqi quickly reached to cup Cor’s face in his hands, catching him as his head was dropping. “Leonis” he called again and shook him, patting his cheek. Cor’s eyelids fluttered again and, with the weakest eyes Loqi had seen in his life, he glanced at Loqi again. Loqi frowned a little and stared back firmly. “I need you here. Stay with me.”

Cor still stared for a bit, breathing heavily and shakily. Loqi kept his face between his hands for a moment, and his eyes on Cor’s weak, feverish ones. Cor had to feel like shit and be really weak to be nearly knocked out from resetting his bones. It hurt, Loqi knew, but it wasn’t enough to knock someone out. The Immortal had to really be fighting just to stay awake…  
Cor continued just gazing at him between heavy eyelids. Loqi waited, staring back. Then, Cor closed the eyes, though more willingly this time, and he seemed to be leaning into one of Loqi’s hands. Loqi wasn’t sure if he was falling asleep and the weight was just going that way or if it was on purpose, but he didn’t take his hands away for a while.

Unable to stay there even if he wanted, Loqi let go little by little. Cor kept the head down and towards a side, but he opened the eyes when Loqi’s hands were gone. He looked at the Nif again and, like before, he didn’t look elsewhere.  
Loqi took Cor’s leg, and carefully started bandaging it. He made sure to tighten it enough to make it stable and firm, and thought of how much of a bad time Cor was most surely going to have walking on a broken foot, which motivated him to bandage as best as he could. While he did, he subtly looked at Cor. The Marshal had closed the eyes. He was in that half-thrown half-sat pose against the wall, whole body completely loose, and the breath steady if shaky. 

Loqi focused in his work again. He wouldn’t be surprised if Leonis was asleep. He sort of…deserved, and needed it. At least, he couldn’t blame him.

Loqi finished and pulled the hem down again, before putting on his boot. The movement seemed to bring Cor back awake, along a little whine of pain.  
“It’s not the best, but I think you’ll be able to walk on it” Loqi murmured, and had started to put the towel and bandages away when he noticed Cor’s face was still dirty and bloodied. The Marshal was still staring at him. Loqi blinked and took the alcohol and cotton again. 

Ah. His face. Loqi had been…he was still so shocked that the legend was…at a hand’s reach, that he had been too scared to touch the face. It would only confirm even more that this was _the_ Immortal, so he had avoided it and forgotten. After getting the cotton ball ready, Loqi looked at the Marshal’s face, tried to get his hands close, and he hesitated. The hand with the cotton stopped inches from it, not knowing where to get. He lifted his other hand as well, as if he had become blind and was ready to search for the wounds with the fingertips, but as soon as they were close, they stopped too, a little tremblingly.  
“Uhm…” he whispered as his hands moved again, like not finding the right angle. Despite the strange behavior, Cor only kept staring, calm and collected, blinking softly. 

Loqi shook the head, looking down for a moment, and contained the breath to calm down. He looked up, decided to go step by step, and searched for a first wound. He saw a cut at Cor’s cheek, so he forced himself to do it, and pressed the cotton on it. Having gotten rid of the previous hesitation, Loqi started cleaning him, carefully, taking away balls of cotton full of blood and dirt. Like usual, Cor just watched him as he worked. Loqi cleaned the wound at his cheek, and then, with his free hand, he put a few fingertips to Cor’s jaw to push it gently, making him turn to a side. Loqi started cleaning the bigger wound at his temple, and took the time to clean some of the dry blood that had run down along his jaw too.

Once he was done with that wound, Loqi grabbed him by the chin, gently, barely applying any pressure. Cor closed the eyes. Loqi, then, used his hold on Cor’s chin to make him turn back to the front, slowly, very gently, and Cor opened the eyes again, his gaze immediately landing on Loqi’s. The Nif stared back for a moment, silent. He felt his heart do something stupid and strange, unable to hold Cor’s gaze for too long. It was too soft, too gentle, it was way too full of…it was so…his gaze was so horribly, so terribly real and _innocent…_

Loqi looked down and sighed a little shakily. He messed a little with his stuff until grabbing only a cloth, dampening it the slightest in water.  
Out of nowhere, not expecting it even himself, he spoke.  
“I think…that the reason I’m helping you is…” he started and stopped. Cor didn’t pressure him or question him, didn’t even change the attentive look on his face. Loqi stayed quiet, before sighing shortly again, and looking up. He started cleaning Cor’s bloodied and dirty face as he continued. “I didn’t know it was possible to touch you. Let alone _hurt_ you. You’ve…I’ve…I always heard about you” one of Cor’s eyebrows twitched subtly, and the look in his eyes was tainted with some curiosity. Loqi took a moment to gaze back before retaking his work, his hand moving so very slowly and gently on Cor’s face. “Since I have memory, you’ve been there. They talk about you in Niflheim like a Boogeyman, your name is the terror that makes kids run to their beds.”

Cor’s eyes moved a little more along his face, like searching for something, or not quite understanding where this was all leading. Loqi smiled a little, apparently more to himself, before his smile faded as he kept working.  
“You’ve always been there. Always undefeatable, unmovable, always…indestructible” he stopped and made eye contact with Cor, looking serious. “Untouchable” Cor didn’t seem bothered. He looked at Loqi with even deeper innocence than before. For a moment, the look in his eyes made Loqi feel…in control. He felt that Cor knew himself at the complete mercy of Loqi. Weak, vulnerable. Loqi, surprisingly, didn’t like it. It pinched at his stomach. He lowered the eyes and swallowed. “…you’ve never been a man. You’ve always been a legend. I’ve always…had you in my mind so much as a legend, that I’m…having a hard time understanding you’re real and mortal. You shouldn’t be.”

Was that…the reason? It almost sounded silly. But, for some reason, Cor didn’t find it amusing or senseless. He furrowed the eyebrows lightly, eyes even more attentive on the young man before him, curious, immersed in his speech.  
“It’s so…unreal to see you captured, and beaten up” Loqi vaguely gestured his way, involuntarily smiling with an apologetic look. He sighed, shook the head, and looked down again. “The mere idea of you getting hurt and feeling actual _pain_ and see you bleed…like normal people do…” as he spoke, he reached for one of Cor’s hands. Involuntarily, Cor’s hand flinched as soon as he felt Loqi’s fingertips ghost it, but he let the blond take it. He looked down at it, too. Loqi had taken his hand in both of his, a little wary. He seemed to be looking at the scratches and blood on it. Cor looked back up at his face. Loqi was frowning at Cor’s injured hand, and started shaking the head. “…it’s absurd.”

Cor didn’t look away from his face during all the time Loqi spent watching his hand. While Loqi saw the scratches and toyed a little with Cor’s hand in both of his, the Lucian’s attention did but deepen more and more in the Nif, all his focus veiling around the younger man.  
He had little hands. Compared to Cor’s, at least. And, gods help, they were so very soft…

Loqi sighed through the nose and let go of his hand.  
“You’re not a normal person. You’re a legend” he looked up and locked eye contact with Cor again. The Marshal swallowed and tilted the head slightly to a side, eyes still full on the Nif’s. Loqi’s eyes were…severe, and firm, yet his voice had been a murmur. Loqi seemed to have given him the ghost of a smile, and then looked away to focus on his job once more, retaking the little towel to clean the blood under his nose. “So don’t you die in the desert” Cor blinked again, quiet, and opened his mouth to breathe, suddenly a little nervous. “Legends don’t get ridiculous deaths like dehydration, being hit by a car, an infection, and legends certainly don’t die just…formally executed by a random imperial general in a dungeon. You can’t die so pathetically; it ruins the legend” Loqi smiled more widely this time. He stopped and looked at Cor again, smiling with confidence. “You go out there and make yourself a death worthy of the life that’s followed you so far, Immortal. You owe that to your name.”

Cor looked at him with a little more intensity this time, not helping but open the eyes a little more than he had managed so far, and not helping the confusion and surprise in them. Loqi didn’t seem to be half as surprised as he was, working on cleaning him like they weren’t enemies, like this was not the huge event in Cor’s life that it was turning to be. Even though Cor gave him profoundly confused and questioning eyes, Loqi just stared back to give him more of that confident smile and the eyes of a leader. The look on his face was not sad or pained. He was firm, even authoritarian. Despite him being…what? Half of Cor’s age? Despite him being around his twenties, with soft hands not experienced in the battlefield, and with such beautiful, unscarred face that could pass by a spoiled brat prince…he sure knew how to…inspire.

Even though Loqi kept it clear since he woke him up that he was going to help him out…the idea of it happening, right now, it was incredible. And more than that, the idea of a Nif _general,_ a high command that could have passed to history by helping in the capture of the second man most wanted in Niflheim…the idea of this young man, letting him free, in exchange of _nothing?_ How? He could have…glory, fame, wealth if he just let Cor die, they were on enemy sides of the war, and he was…letting him go, just like that? Like it was nothing? 

Did Cor really have a curse that made him Immortal and that was why? Because that was, so far it fit in Cor’s head, the only explanation that made sense. Nif soldiers were always so hungry and thirsty of blood, torture, fame and wealth, and this young man that could have had it all with the most wanted man after only the prince himself…letting him free…in exchange of nothing? Could a Nif be so…selfless? Could a Nif be capable of…mercy? Selfless, wholehearted mercy? Because not only did this young man earn nothing out of this, he also set Cor to keep doing his, as the Nifs called it, ‘mischief’ that gave them troubles, who knew, Cor could even lead an important victory on Lucis’ behalf one day and sending this man’s team and whole country to ruins, and not even looking so far in the future, this could give this guy troubles too if-

Cor’s eyebrow twitched as the idea fell on him.  
“What happens if they catch you?” Cor asked in a whisper, still staring. Loqi looked up at him only for a moment before retaking his job, ignoring him. Cor still waited, but didn’t get an answer. It made his stomach shrink a little, thinking that if Loqi didn’t answer, it was because he didn’t want to, and if that was the case, then it was because he didn’t want to make Cor do some stupidity or worry. Cor took the silence as that answer, so he pressured. “Death?”  
Loqi half-snorted half-chuckled, genuinely amused.  
“Is death really the worst punishment you Lucians can imagine?” Loqi murmured, eyes and hands focused in cleaning Cor’s jaw. “I don’t know if that’s optimistic or naïve…”

He didn’t get an answer. He finished cleaning some of the dry blood and dirt at Cor’s jaw, and looked up when he felt the stare. Even though Cor had been staring all the time, this one made Loqi look up because it was a little different. The insistence in them was clear. Loqi’s smile faded the more he stared at Cor’s gaze, insistent, and…concerned. The concern in them was…too genuine. Too genuine that it pinched at Loqi’s heart, and he didn’t have hatred enough to leave Cor in the agony of doubt and worry. He looked down and tried to look for a way to answer to neither stay under the pressure of Cor’s concerned gaze nor make it sound too crude.  
“…hands and eyes are…normally the favorite combo price for high treason” he whispered and gave Cor a sad smile. He saw Cor’s lips part, heard him take in a cut breath, and he could swear he…could almost see the way something in Cor’s soul fell, only seeing his sad, ice eyes. Loqi couldn’t help but smile and snort a little at the reaction, and looked down, shaking the head. “Don’t exaggerate. They won’t catch me. I still need my hands to get them on you to give you the death you deserve out in the field.”

Cor still stared, unable to do anything else. He tried to process the idea that…that this guy knew, he knew before he came into the room what could happen if someone knew what he was doing…and still did it. The idea of the Nif taking the risk of such high price, still in exchange of nothing…  
“Is there a way to get you out of here?” Cor mumbled, eyes even more attentive on him, even a little desperate. Loqi stared at him with genuine surprise for a moment, and then shook the head as he took Cor’s jaw and focused in his lips.  
“Don’t confuse things, Marshal” Loqi said, and started looking cleaning Cor’s mouth, carefully. “I’m aiding you for now, but I’m not siding with you. I stand by the Empire by will. I don’t _want_ to be taken out of here.” 

Cor blinked slowly. He took a time to understand the idea. Loqi remained quiet, serious, Cor’s chin in one of his hands, and the other using the cloth to clean Cor’s lips. He dragged it along his lower lip, saw it slide underneath his fingertip, separated by the fabric of the towel. He had to use another part of the towel to keep cleaning, as it got immediately ruined in blood. Loqi held his chin softly while taking his time with the mouth, cleaning both lips, a little of their insides, the corners. He lowered Cor’s lip with a finger to clean his dirtied teeth as well, something that wasn’t necessary, but a kind gesture.

Cor continued watching him, eyes soft and so immersed into Loqi that the fortress didn’t exist, not even the dungeon room. After a moment, Loqi let go of his chin and looked down to fold the towel. For a moment, Cor missed the touch. He watched as Loqi put away his things, tied the plastic bag where he had put the cotton balls, and took something out of the bag.  
“Caligo keeps the only key around his neck” Loqi whispered. He brought a little metal stick up and reached for one of Cor’s wrists. “I’ll ruin these later to make it look like you used a stick or a piece of rock to open them.”

Cor still watched him, not helping the worry in his eyes. Loqi worked on the shackles and, a minute or two later, the first popped open. Cor immediately half-sighed half-hissed at the release, feeling the pressure go away, but he didn’t have the strength to move his hand away of the open shackle. While Loqi worked on the second one, he looked down at his wrist. It was bruised as if though he had been tied with ropes instead. Faster than before, Loqi opened the other one.

And Cor was free.  
Just like that. Just ever so easily. Without having moved, without having done a thing, Cor was patched up, given first aid, and free.  
And he didn’t move.  
He looked at Loqi again, still and relaxed. Loqi stared back, staying on his knees and sitting back onto his own legs. Cor looked around his face for a moment, wondering, wondering if Loqi was not going to end up beating him up again and tell his superiors that he had caught him as he was escaping. Cor realized he was in all freedom to grab Loqi if he wanted. Take him by the throat and squeeze so tight he wouldn’t be able to make a sound. Smash him against the floor, stomp his skull into it. He was bigger, much stronger. He didn’t wonder if Loqi knew that, because it was mere logic; he wondered why, even then, Loqi just sat in front of him, an enemy, and only stared innocently and calmly. Unafraid. 

Cor felt warmth pool in his chest. From among all selfless acts he had witnessed in his life…

Cor blinked softly.  
“…thank you” he whispered. Loqi didn’t reply. He smiled with some sadness for a moment, looked down, and shook the head, and stared up again. Cor had yet not looked away, and this time, so didn’t he. 

Even though Cor was free and Loqi done, both stayed in their spots, in absolute silence, and didn’t move. Both stared at each other and did no more for what felt like forever. Not a sound echoed, not the slightest nuisance interrupted as they spoke a thousand things into their silence, gazes connected as if physically unable to look elsewhere. Cor’s eyes moved only a little, travelling across Loqi’s face. He saw a few birthmarks here and there, his fair skin. His pretty eyebrows. He returned to his eyes, like he always did. 

Loqi, too, gazed. He rarely looked away from Cor’s eyes, but he too stared a little around the Marshal’s face. He saw his sideburns, the rests of blood and dirt that he couldn’t clean away, and the wrinkles at his forehead. He saw his left eye, rounded of black and red, like a little cosmos, like it had been painted on purpose, and still slightly swollen. But his gaze, the eyes kept calling him, and Loqi was unable to look anywhere else. He was aware of it, and he knew that so was Cor, but he shamelessly stared, because Cor’s eyes…they were far too expressive to ignore. And, gods damn, did they speak so much in that moment. 

Cor’s eyes were…full of something Loqi couldn’t quite name. They were gleaming in sadness, like they seemed to do all the time. There was permanent pain there, not physical. His eyes reflected, whether he wanted or not, his exhaustion. His eyes told how beaten he truly was, hungry, in pain, how poor his health was. He looked…a little ashamed. Even now that Loqi thought he should have forgotten, he found guilt still swimming in Cor’s icy-blue eyes, and concern, that damned concern that begged silently for comfort. 

His eyes looked…a look at them spoke to Loqi about…a kindness he didn’t know possible in the monster of his childhood, the source of hatred of his teen years, and his lethal target of adulthood. A kindness so great, it was almost absurd to think it fit in one person alone. There was innocence, just as great, if not greater. He also looked…his eyes were similar to an abandoned puppy’s. His eyes transmitted so much…loneliness. So much of it. So horribly much.

There was so much…humanity in his eyes. Cor’s eyes weren’t dead cameras that locked targets on. They were real, human eyes that contained emotions and all of his feelings. And they contained so many, great, and such…pure, good emotions that…

Cor blinked softly. Loqi, who stared at him almost with distress, opened the mouth very slightly, breath a little shaky. Cor wasn’t sure of what, but something had bothered this young man. Perhaps, he could only guess from the way he stared at him, and the way he looked so sad, that he was feeling remorse for-

Cor’s thoughts were interrupted when he saw the young man move. Loqi lifted a hand towards him. Cor closed the eyes; whether he had to wait for a hit or not, he accepted anything.  
He opened them again when he felt fingertips very shyly, timidly landing on his cheek. He looked down at the spot Loqi was touching, and back at his eyes. Loqi was still looking at him like it was the first time he saw a person, or like seeing something in Cor that the Lucian himself couldn’t quite catch.

Then, unexpectedly, Loqi’s whole hand laid on his cheek. Cor let him, not moving, and then he had Loqi’s other hand on his other cheek, so the Nif was cupping his face softly, carefully, almost with a little fear.

Gazing at him for a moment more, Loqi leaned in, closed the eyes, and kissed him. 

Cor stayed still. He closed the eyes for the brief moment as Loqi’s lips pressed so tenderly, so very softly on his, a chaste touch, a gentle peck. Cor opened the eyes as soon as Loqi’s lips got away of his, even when they stayed close enough to ghost his; he had to confirm he wasn’t hallucinating this, and he had to do as he had done all night to confirm it, and stare and gaze at Loqi. Yet, as surreal as the situation was, he could see him, and could now also feel him. His soft, so very warm hands holding his face so lightly he was barely holding it, just looking for the contact and the touch, his breath at his lips, his overall presence there, real, close, warm, and tender.

Without having broken away, Loqi kissed him again, a little less timidly this time, but remaining gentle. He kissed Cor’s upper lip first, and then the lower one.  
And Cor responded. Closing the eyes between hesitant blinks, with trembling lips, Cor tried kissing back. He was a little breathless, but couldn’t tell if it was from his injuries or from the mess this young man just created in his chest and his head. He tried kissing back with not much success, but the Nif seemed to understand, and took the lead for him. He kissed Cor sweetly and gently, and very slowly, like telling him ‘It’s ok, I’ll do it for you’. The sensation made Cor relax, but also made him close his hands in little fists, not helping but feel his heart flip in his chest.

Loqi went on, and kissed him again, just as slow and tender. Cor’s hands moved a little, weak, and shy. He tried to lift the hands, but he couldn’t gather strength enough in his arms. He wanted to hold him, too. He wanted to put a hand on Loqi’s face, wanted to feel if it was as soft as it looked. He wanted to bury the other hand in his hair, see if it was even softer. Even though he continued trying to kiss back, Cor suddenly felt embarrassed; the guy smelled so very nice, he was so clean, he was so beautiful and so soft, and Cor was this…bloodied, dirty, sweaty, rough disaster. He wondered if the Nif didn’t care, even as Loqi continued kissing him. 

Eyebrows furrowed, Loqi kept going, not letting go of Cor’s face. He tasted like blood and sweat, but Loqi couldn’t bring himself to stop, and didn’t find it disgusting. It wasn’t the taste. It was the dry lips underneath what were so captivating, and maybe not even that. Maybe it wasn’t the lips, either. Maybe it was who they belonged to. 

After a moment, Loqi broke apart. He stayed close at first, hands to Cor’s face, and eyes on his. Once more, when Cor opened the eyes, he was still staring. The Marshal kept a blank face, but his eyes were drowning in clear confusion. Loqi stared at his eyes per turns, like trying to look for an alert sign in either sooner or later. 

Little by little, he started moving back a little more, hands sliding away of Cor’s face until he let go. Cor, still not moving, just gazed more at him.  
“…why?” he managed to breathe out. Loqi opened the mouth and took a little breath in, but didn’t reply. He contained the breath, swallowed, and only stared all the time, frozen. Cor had a blank face, but the way he stared at him was…as powerful, even more than before. Loqi stared back for a moment, and then looked down.  
“…I…don’t know” he whispered. 

He remained silent, and seemed to be looking for an explanation. He looked like he truly didn’t know the reason himself, yet, Cor still waited for an answer. Loqi eventually relaxed little by little, until he closed the eyes and sighed.  
“…I don’t know” he repeated, now not looking up. “It didn’t happen.”

Cor didn’t fight that. But he didn’t agree, either. He continued staring, like he hadn’t heard anything. Loqi was still for a moment, and he looked…regretful, but not because of the kiss, or it didn’t seem like that. He seemed…a little frustrated. Perhaps…Cor fantasized, he could try and ask him again how he could take him out of there, but he remembered it was futile. For whatever reason this young man had kissed him, it would never be greater than his loyalty to the Empire, and Cor understood, if sadly, but understood.

He watched Loqi reach into his little box for one last thing. Loqi brought out a syringe, still in its pack. He opened it, and filled it with some liquid. He turned to Cor, but once more didn’t look at him to the eyes like before.  
“It’s an imperial drug, so whatever doctor you get to later, tell them you don’t know so they don’t mess up accidentally” he murmured. He pulled Cor’s shirt collar to a side to expose his shoulder a little more, and he cleaned a spot as he spoke. “It’s going to help you through the desert. It’ll last about three or four hours, but after that, you’ll rapidly weaken again, so make sure you’re walking in straight line to wherever you’re going” he explained, and so, without warning, but remaining gentle, as gentle and as soft as his kisses had been, he injected the drug. Cor barely felt the pinch. “It may cause a bit of vomit, but it’s safe.”

Cor continued staring at him and refused to look elsewhere. He was only forced to close the eyes for a moment when he felt the liquid, freezing, start spreading through his body. He tensed a little and had to swallow back a tiny whine, but recovered rapidly. When he opened the eyes, he found Loqi, finally, staring at him again. He still looked a little in distress, maybe worried for having done what he did. Cor wished he could do something about whatever the Nif was feeling, maybe only reach for his hair to pet him and comfort him through it, but he only gazed back. 

The two spent some moments gazing like before, talking with nothing but the stare they shared. The effects were nearly immediate, and Cor felt himself becoming more and more alive with each second, less weaker and more alert, but all that he could focus in was the general that just saved his life, this young man that had come in the middle of the night like an apparition or like a fairy tale, like a savior, like a guardian angel…maybe he was still a villain, but one that had saved his life, and one that had sparked fascination in him.

Cor gazed at him, seeing an enemy, but also the kind soul that saved him from a sure death at hands of torture. He saw the general that had made the greatest and most heart wrenching act of selflessness, unexpectedly, not doing a miracle, but being the miracle himself. Cor stared and stared, trying to catch all the details he could see in the dark, every inch of his face, every pore of his skin, the shape of his nose, the features of his skull, the form of everything, because Cor needed, urgently, achingly, he needed _desperately_ to not ever, never forget his face.

Cor breathed a little shakily, eyes open big and alert as he stared at every inch that he could to make sure he could trace this face by heart, with the eyes closed if he so wanted, but he still ached, burned in desperation to know more.  
“…your name” he pleaded in a murmur. The unspoken petition seemed to take the Nif a little off guard. He looked at Cor with slightly wide and surprised eyes, paralyzed for a moment. Then, he looked over his shoulder towards the door, clearly hesitating. He had started shaking the head when he made eye contact with Cor again.

Like before, Cor’s eyes brought his defenses down like a cannonball. He tried to tell him that the less he knew the safer both would be, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. In among the overwhelming quantity of beautiful emotions that swam in Cor’s pale irises, there was a new one shadowing the rest; it was a sort of desperation Loqi had never seen before, a silent, aching plea to be given what he was asking for. He seemed even in more distress than he was before being patched up; the concern in his eyes almost looked like it was stressing him to asphyxiation, aching for that answer, desperate for the only one thing he was asking for.

And Loqi, of course, couldn’t deny it to him. He looked back at the door a last time, then back at Cor. Little by little, hesitating, and fearing to let his guard down to himself, Loqi leaned closer. It had looked, and the Astrals forgive Cor for such foolish, naïve thought, that he was going for one of his sweet and tender kisses, this time on the cheek, but he didn’t. He got close to be able to be closer to Cor’s ear.  
“…Loqi Tummelt” he whispered, like it was a forbidden and new secret that belonged only to the two now.

Cor closed the eyes. He breathed in, feeling the blond’s natural smell, clean, and pretty. He leaned the face in the direction Loqi was at.  
“…Loqi Tummelt” Cor whispered. Then, with energy this time, he managed to lift an arm. His fingertips brushed against Loqi’s fringe, ghosted the skin of his cheek. Loqi trembled subtly, and contained the breath, a little nervous. “Loqi…Tummelt. Loqi Tummelt…”

And so Cor laid his fingertips so very, so very softly on his skin. Loqi closed the eyes. The tact was rough, and still a little shaky. Cor’s touch moved slightly up, and caressed along his cheek, timidly.  
“…Loqi Tummelt” he breathed out again, eyes still closed. Loqi’s heart shrank listening to him say his name over and over, like a prayer for salvation of dear life. Loqi closed the eyes, and let his head lean against Cor’s, their temples touching. Cor’s hand still sneaked timidly around his face, tracing the right side of it, and then it went up to his hair. Loqi opened the eyes again and watched Cor’s face, while the Lucian’s fingertips traveled through his fringe. “Loqi Tummelt…”

His fingers pushed some of Loqi’s fringe away of his face and behind his ear, even though it returned anyway. Loqi pulled back enough to get a clearer look of Cor’s face. After a moment, Cor started lowering his hand, and he opened the eyes. Like every time, they made eye contact. Loqi could see Cor’s pupils had dilated, already fully aware thanks to the drug, almost covering his pretty, so human and so very mortal ice eyes. Yet, he looked conscious as he gazed at Loqi like _he_ was the unreal legend standing before him; impossible, unreachable, and there at a hand’s touch, sublime and real. 

Little by little, eyes still wide and full of amazement, looking at Loqi almost as if mesmerized, Cor started smiling, timidly, but real.  
“…thank you” he whispered, “Loqi Tummelt…” 

Loqi smiled back and put the head down. He shook the head as if saying it was nothing, and so, finally, he pulled up on his feet. He offered his hands, and Cor accepted them, putting his rough, big hands in Loqi’s soft, small ones, and holding to them for support as he stood. He found the young man, despite small, didn’t have the slightest struggle at pulling him up. Cor hesitated a little as he adjusted himself on his broken ankle, hissing a little, Loqi getting a hold of him and letting go little by little until Cor stood on his own. Not helping but notice, Cor looked down, finding the Nif was even shorter than he had looked before. It was stupidly cute. 

“Turn right and keep going straight, there’s an exit right there” Loqi told him in a whisper, heading quickly for the door. “Don’t die like a loser, Immortal.”  
Cor didn’t reply. He followed promptly to the door, which Loqi quickly but silently opened, getting a look outside himself first through a tiny opening. Once at the door, Cor wanted to get a last…something from the Nif, from Loqi; a kiss, maybe only a hug if the guy had regretted the kiss. But Cor understood that this had to be fast, and not like he would have liked; as soon as Loqi opened the door, time was running for both, and he didn’t want to take any risks. Loqi had taken enough already.

Besides, he had a new promise to keep up, and to fulfill it he had to make a quick escape now.  
He only stopped at the door for a moment before going out, standing right behind Loqi, the door only opened an inch. Cor stood behind him, the Nif almost pressed to his chest.  
“…thank you…Loqi Tummelt” Cor repeated, like he had become unable to say anything else. He leaned down to murmur against the top of the Nif’s head. “Loqi.”

And like that was a goodbye, Cor walked past him, let Loqi open the door, and he limped his way as fast as he could towards whatever opening to freedom he could find. 

Loqi didn’t watch him go away. He stayed in the room, staring at what he could see of the base from inside the room. He heard the quiet rustle of Cor’s limping as he left, quieting until he couldn’t hear it anymore, and he still waited more.  
And that was it. Fast, like it had never happened, he had…released his arch-nemesis into freedom. The man he had thrown so many tantrums over, that had made him angered, frustrated, and stressed for so many years, having been right at his grip, now free. 

Despite the pinch of guilt and nerves that he naturally couldn’t help knowing how bad this was in the context of enemy teams of this war, Loqi couldn’t help but smile.  
If he felt regret or guilt later, that was very much alright. Right in that moment, he felt oddly…satisfied, and he dared feel like it was a sensation he was not going to change for the world.

He closed the door again and went to ruin the shackles in a way that seemed like Cor himself had legit broken out of them, and made a mental note to ruin the door too. He couldn’t be caught. He needed his eyes and hands to catch Cor, but only as a legend his size deserved; in the battlefield, in an epic fight, and not rotting in the dirt. 

Cor had no notion of where the closest town or allies were, so he could only hope to have chosen the best, and walked in straight line east, figuring it was the zone of Leiden with more towns, pit stops, and less imperials, but he wasn’t sure exactly where he was going. He still kept a hand to his stab wound, this time not to stop the bleeding or to try to ease the pain, but to remember the name of his savior, like every stitch of his wound was a letter that formed it. He could feel the pain of his broken ankle, but not quite like he would have without the drug, but even if he was, he would have done as he did that night; he kept going, non-stop, rushing away of his death sentence and towards hope, holding onto life.

He walked so much, he started walking towards the sun of dawn. The desert, the day he had gone imprisoned with no access to anything, and his non-stop walk had left him thirsty to death and surely dehydrated, but he kept going. 

And dehydrated, injured, drugged, Cor rushed through the desert on a broken foot, at the mercy of beasts and daemons, with a smile.

And a name tumbling from his mouth. A name he kept repeating in exhausted breaths, not having enough with only the mental call. He was frightened, terrified at the idea of forgetting. He was suffering of a concussion and blood loss, bad enough for his memory, and now he was drugged, and this…angel, this miracle named Loqi Tummelt had appeared in the middle of his sleep, it was the perfect recipe to have Cor forget in the morning, so he refused to sleep, refused to let himself collapse until the name was safe with someone else or somewhere else that Cor could consult later to remember, to confirm it was no hallucination. He didn’t want to forget, so he kept saying his name in a prayer that kept the daemons and dangers away, and that kept him going against all odds with a smile.

For a while, Cor walked on automatic. He closed the eyes and kept the head low, exhausted, and feeling the drug start washing away. Yet, he kept walking. When he felt the first drop of sweat roll down his neck, he looked up at the sun again.  
It took a moment for his sight to focus.  
When it did, he saw a human figure in the distance.

Cor didn’t stop and kept going, but tried to focus. At first, he thought he could only see the silhouette, but he made out that the figure was dark because it was dressed all in black.  
Whoever it was, they seemed to notice him. The figure stood up from whatever it was doing before, and seemed to become alert, watching him attentively. A moment later, it started going towards him.

Some moments later, he was finally close enough to be recognized. Cor stopped when he saw the so familiar uniform, hair, glasses, and face of the prince’s advisor. Only then, after hours of uninterrupted march, Cor stopped.  
“…oh, thank Astrals” he breathed out, and as Ignis ran his way, Cor collapsed.

He could hear Ignis call ‘Marshal!’ over and over, each time closer, but at the same time more distant than Cor knew he was.

Ignis reached him soon and didn’t lose time, dropping next to him and turning him around.  
“Marshal” he called hurriedly and a little breathless from concern and shock. He analyzed him a little from his injuries, before looking over his shoulder. “Gladio!” he yelled, almost a bit desperate. “Gladio!”

While waiting for help, Ignis started taking Cor in arms. He cradled him in arms, holding Cor’s head and hugging him by the shoulders, and letting him rest against his chest.  
“It’s ok, Marshal, we…” Ignis stopped for a moment when he realized that, despite the miserable, alarming state Cor was in, there was…a smile on his lips. Exhausted, a little feverish, but a smile. Ignis hesitated a little, not sure he understood. “We’re…getting you potions right away.”  
“Ignis…” Cor whispered, eyes closed. “I’m sorry for the troubles…”  
“No, Marshal, you’re not troubles” Ignis told him, still searching for wounds, but not finding anything that bled. “How did you…?”

Before he could go on, Gladio arrived, going down on his knees at Cor’s other side and calling his name rather than his title.  
“What happened? Where did he-?”  
“I- don’t know, I saw him from- he just…he was _walking_ from there” Ignis said, as startled and confused, shaking the head a little. “We need to get him a potion, and somewhere safe. Text the guys and ask them to bring the Regalia as close as they can.”  
“Cor, you ok there?” Gladio asked after nodding and hurrying to send the text, stroking Cor’s forehead and hair with a careful but firm hand.  
“Yeah, yes” Cor muttered joyfully, half against Ignis’ chest. His smile suddenly grew. “I’m fantastic…”

Ignis and Gladio looked at each other, sharing the confusion. Ignis gave him a shrug like telling him he had no idea why he smiled or acted this way. Both looked at him again when Cor started mumbling more.  
“I know why I'm immortal, I learned today…” Cor murmured. Both retainers had to lean a little towards him to hear him as Cor started dozing off. “I have a guardian angel” he said with a wide smile that was so full of joy, his whole face glowed in it. Ignis and Gladio looked at him, still confused. Cor let out a breath through the nose, but kept smiling. “Or a guardian demon, maybe…it suits better…you know, because he’s…one of the bad guys, but he’s the best bad guy…he’s bad but good to me, like...bad but saved me, so maybe that’s better, isn't it? Evil but not really. So maybe...guardian demon…my own, kind, beautiful guardian demon...”

Ignis and Gladio shared a look again, not understanding. Ignis opened Cor’s eyes one by one, and laid a hand on his forehead.  
“I think he might be on some sort of medication, and he’s a little delirious” Ignis murmured while looking at him.  
“Loqi Tummelt.”

Both looked down at him again when he spoke. Cor kept the eyes softly closed, and smile smaller but as joyful as before, much warmer, much sweeter. He turned a little more into Ignis’ direction.  
“…Marshal?” Ignis called, thinking the man had already fallen asleep.  
“Loqi Tummelt” Cor managed to murmur, weak, and not able to open the mouth properly. “Please, remember it, remember it, Ignis…I owe him my life…” Ignis couldn’t help but look at him with worry. “And I owe him my death, too…”

Ignis gave him a look of confusion, as did Gladio.  
The Shield looked away when his phone ringed.  
_‘We’re here.’_

While Gladio asked Ignis to help him put the Marshal on his back, Cor smiled again.

In the safest hands he could have landed on, only a few hours from fully recovering, having escaped death once more and honoring his name as he was asked, and with the name of his guardian demon finally safe from oblivion, Cor finally let himself rest for a bit.


End file.
